


Terra Incognita

by Not_You



Category: Wonder Woman (Comics)
Genre: 1940s, Anal Fingering, Cuddling & Snuggling, F/M, Face-Sitting, Female Ejaculation, First Time, Light Bondage, Nipple Play, Queer Het, Strength Kink, steve's masculinity issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-12
Updated: 2016-04-12
Packaged: 2018-06-01 19:02:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6532447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Not_You/pseuds/Not_You
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Steve has never been with a woman like Diana before, and he doubts that any living man could give him good advice.  It feels like she's always rewriting the script, and all Steve can do is scramble to keep up.  When he puts it like that to himself, it sounds like a bad time, instead of the best time. </i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Terra Incognita

Steve has never been with a woman like Diana before, and he doubts that any living man could give him good advice. It feels like she's always rewriting the script, and all Steve can do is scramble to keep up. When he puts it like that to himself, it sounds like a bad time, instead of the best time. Even when she's embarrassing him, it's pretty great. Probably because it always comes out of her trying to take care of him, like when they were coming out of a movie and she spotted a deep puddle and scooped him right up, carrying him over it to spare his dress shoes. The boys had laughed at that one, but he's pretty sure they envy him.

Now he takes a deep breath and pours himself a drink. Diana will be here in about fifteen minutes and she said earlier that she wants to go to bed with him, and he's mostly elated and only a tiny bit terrified. He takes a deep breath and sips his rye, looking around and wondering how much more he can fuss with the place without getting too involved or making it look ridiculous. It's clean, of course. Girls hate it when a guy's place is a mess, and that seems to be one of the things Diana does share with every other girl Steve has ever known. He has a bottle of wine, which is her preferred poison and hopefully not too goddamn terrible, and of course there's the good old Army-issue prophylactics in the bedside drawer in case they get up to anything that requires them, but other than that all he has been able to manage is some fresh flowers in a jar, which seems a bit feeble. He just has time to move them to the nice vase his mother left him when there's a light knock on the door.

Diana has been picking up modern fashions as she goes, and is wearing something strapless and red that makes Steve happy to be part of the learning process. She smiles down at him as he steps aside to let her in, and of course immediately goes over to exclaim over how pretty the vase is, her heels clicking on the grey lino floor.

“It was my mother's,” he says, glad that his voice still works with his stomach fluttering this way. “Wine? I can't promise it's any good, but I tried.”

The wine isn't any good, but Diana says that she can make it drinkable. There's always something odd about how normal Diana looks doing domestic tasks. Six feet tall and impossibly beautiful, she moves around his kitchen like she lives here, mulling wine like that's a thing anyone does. She's very careful of Steve's sugar ration, but soon the kitchen is full of a rich, sweet smell. She cooks like his mother used to, just eyeballing things and almost negligently throwing them around. Just like when he was a little kid, Steve marvels at her ability not to make a mess, and accepts the result with polite gratitude. It smells great and tastes better when he takes a sip, and Diana looks delighted when he says so. They settle at the kitchen table to savor it, Diana slipping her feet out of her shoes and sighing contentedly as she flexes her toes.

“They're pretty things,” she says, looking down at her shoes, “but very silly.”

“And you're tall enough already,” Steve says, sipping his drink. “Some girls need 'em just to be able to peek over a guy's shoulder, but you're...” he trails off, always unsure of the right words for Diana's beauty.

“I'm what?” she coos, batting her eyes at him in one of those flashes of the kind of femininity that Steve understands completely.

“Gorgeous,” he tells her, pleased to see her blush. “You always kinda make me think of a lioness,” he adds. Diana is heavy and graceful like a big cat, and he's not really sure what to make of the way he goes weak in the knees every time he sees or especially feels that strength in action.

“You make me think of... well. I have noticed that if women in Man's World don't want to be big and strong, men don't want to be cute, so perhaps I shouldn't say.”

Being thought of that way does make Steve feel weird, but it's not necessarily a bad feeling. “Try me.”

“Sometimes I can see how dangerous you really are, but a lot of the time you remind me of a little songbird we have back home.”

“A songbird, huh?”

“A fierce little thing,” Diana says, smiling, “willing to fight creatures more than twice its size.”

Steve chuckles. “Escape from the hospital and ram one plane into another just one time...”

“You're entirely too daring,” she says, putting her hand over his and stroking the projecting bone of his wrist. “It's adorable, but you make me worry.”

He sighs. “Yeah, I know.” He raises her hand to his lips, pressing a delicate kiss into the knuckles. “It seems to be how I'm built.”

“I have no complaints about how you're built,” she says, and he laughs, with a blush of his own.

“Really? 'Cause it's hardly the standard model for you.”

“Steve, darling, what about me is standard-issue?”

“Absolutely goddamn nothing,” he tells her, and she smiles, cupping the side of his face and tracing his lower lip with the tip of her thumb.

“Precisely. I enjoy you at least as much as you enjoy me.”

It's sweet of her to say, but Steve still wonders how all right with his equipment she'll be. She did say that she saw everything back on the island, but that was nursing, not fucking. “Still, though,” he says, you're not used to men, and I hope it doesn't seem... weird.”

Diana laughs, standing and laughing harder at the way Steve is compelled to follow her. She scoops him right off of his feet, and it's embarrassing that he's so trained to cling to her, his body nestling into her arms like he belongs here. Maybe he does.

“Darling,” she says, carrying him to his bedroom, “if a little strangeness were to daunt me, I would be no Amazon.”

“I guess not,” Steve says, a little breathless. She lays him out on top of the covers and takes his shirt off as briskly as a nurse, which really shouldn't get him going the way it does. He groans into Diana's mouth as she pins him to the bed with all her weight and strength as well as a proprietary, devouring kiss that makes him dizzy. He's already rock hard and is dimly worried about putting her off, but she beams down at him when she breaks away, and then sits up and hauls his undershirt off over his head.

“You really are beautiful,” she says softly, gazing down at him like she wants to paint him or something. Steve feels a ridiculous urge to cover up, but refuses to give in. He wants Diana to see him. 

“And these are so dainty,” she adds, rolling a curious finger over Steve's nipple. He can't help a humiliated little whimper because he still remembers asking a girl to touch him there and being called 'abnormal' for it. 

“What's wrong?” Diana murmurs, and Steve laughs.

“Nothing, honey,” he whispers. “Nothing.”

She smiles down at him, and starts fingering both sides at once, apparently fascinated by how much smaller Steve's nipples are than a woman's. He bites his lip to keep quiet, surprised at himself for getting noisy already. And then Diana lowers her head and puts her mouth on him, silky hair fanning out everywhere as she rolls the flat of her tongue over him a few times and then sucks, so slick and warm. Steve clutches at the headboard and pants harshly, struggling not to cry out. Diana bites, very gently, and Steve can't help it then, letting out a loud, strangled noise that turns into a moan when she does it again and then switches sides.

“Diana...” he whimpers, and she looks up at him with a mischievous grin.

“I didn't think you'd be this sensitive.”

“I... I th-think most guys aren't—aah!” Steve cuts himself off as she pinches one nipple, firmly, but not too hard, and if Steve doesn't get out of his fucking pants sometime soon, he's going to explode or cry or something.

“Steve?” she murmurs, sort of milking both sides at the same time, and it feels strange and deviant and incredible.

“Y-yes?” he whispers.

“May I bind your hands?”

To be truthful, Steve has almost forgotten that he has hands, and flushes a deep red to think of everything he hasn't been doing for Diana. He starts to apologize, and she rolls her eyes.

“Steve,” she says, deftly twisting his undershirt around the bars of the headboard and then around his wrists, “I thought the whole point of this was for me to explore you. We can do it the other way around later.” And of course the thought of _that_ practically breaks Steve's brain, and he just makes some pathetic little noise he doesn't want to own, and lets Diana do what she wants with him. Mercifully, she wants to get his pants off, and he groans, shimmying his hips a little to help her along. He's sticking to his shorts underneath, and Diana makes this deep purring noise and leans in to fucking _smell_ him and that's more than anyone should be asked to take without whimpering. She pulls the shorts off carefully, and then nestles between Steve's legs to study him up close.

“You are fascinating,” she tells him, and he lets out a weak little laugh that turns into a moan as she touches his wet slit. “And I see that some things are universal.” She squeezes his cock and gives it a few experimental strokes that make him moan and struggle uselessly before she moves on to cup his balls, apparently fascinated by them.

“C-careful,” he gasps, and she is. She lifts them gently and rubs the skin behind them, which feels much better than he would have supposed. And then she's delicately rubbing one fingertip over his asshole and that's deviant enough to actually worry him. He flinches and yelps, and she stops, looking up at him.

“Did that hurt?”

“No,” Steve admits, and he can feel himself blushing tomato red. “I just.... why would you even want to do that?”

“Because I want to be inside you and because I find that it feels nice, of course. If you don't like it, we certainly don't have to.”

“...I guess you can try,” Steve whispers, and Diana crawls up to kiss him again, deep and slow. He melts under it, and when she pulls away he watches wide-eyed as she reaches under her skirt and pushes two fingers into herself. She brings them out coated in slick, and stretches out next to Steve, covering his face in kisses as she rubs one fingertip over him and then slips it in so easily. Steve lets out a little yelp of surprise, and then reminds himself to relax, moaning into Diana's mouth as she pushes deeper.

Steve has never held with giving queers a hard time. As long as they take no for an answer, they're no worse than anybody else. But he has never claimed to understand it. Now at least one thing is becoming very clear, as Diana does something that's like stroking his cock from the inside out. He cries out and she muffles him in a kiss, setting up a steady rhythm inside him, fucking him with her fingers. It feels strange and good, and Steve can't do much but react as she plays with him, curious and controlled, like a skilled musician trying a new instrument.

“Diana...” he begs, and then she's touching his cock again and that's the end of it and thinking about baseball isn't gonna help. 

He bucks and kicks and makes a sound he's never heard out of anyone before, least of all himself, and comes all over her hand without warning her like he meant to. She laughs, which he guesses is a good sign, and then curiously licks her fingers and makes the most adorable whiskey face Steve has ever seen. He laughs, and she does too.

“Bleh. One clear victory for womankind: we taste better,” she says. “Would you like to experience the difference for yourself?”

And guys wipe the mouth of the canteen when a guy who admits to eating pussy passes it to them, but fuck that. “Please,” Steve says, and Diana beams, climbing up to straddle his face and o holy Jesus, she tastes good. Sweet and musky and wet enough to get all over his face. She has a big clit, to go with the rest of her, and the way she groans when he sucks on it quiets any remaining scruples Steve might have had. She rides his tongue like she owns it, and Steve doesn't even mind when he can't breathe, because she's warm and sweet and slick, and mewls when he pushes his tongue as far into her as it will go, wishing he had the use of his hands. She must like him where he is, though, because right when his tongue is starting to go numb, she lets out a loud cry and sort of gushes over his face, sweet and slick and wet. He moans, and she pulls off slowly and smiles down at him before tenderly untying him and gently washing his face.

“How do you feel, dearest?” she murmurs, and Steve sighs, hugging her tightly.

“Pretty good,” he says, “but can we just stay like this for a while?”

“Of course,” she says, and rolls onto her back, taking Steve with her so his head is resting on her chest as he dozes off.


End file.
